


The Extinguishing of the Brightest Light

by Xx_Astrid_xX



Series: Poor Timing [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Attempted Murder, Battle of Hogwarts, Bigotry & Prejudice, Castration, Corporal Punishment, Dark Magic, Degradation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Insanity, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Mind Rape, Murder, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Pureblood Society, Pureblood Supremacy, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Second War with Voldemort, Sex Magic, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Hermione Granger, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Torture, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xx_Astrid_xX/pseuds/Xx_Astrid_xX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Voldemort had won the war, he would've spared the lives of the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts for Draco... But when Hermione attacks him, Lucius and Narcissa take hold of her. However, Hermione kills Narcissa and unleashes the wrath of lucius Malfoy upon herself. He tortures her for months, until eventually, she enacts her revenge upon him and rejoins Ron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ruining

“Avada kedavra,” her voice was a whisper, but she meant it. Green flew from the wand and hit Narcissa.  
Despite her best efforts, Lucius awoke immediately. He looked between Hermione and Narcissa, and Hermione turned the wand on him.  
“Avada-” she started, but Lucius had his wand out.  
“Crucio!” The girl fell at the roared spell from Lucius. Familiar, searing agony roared through Hermione’s body, and she almost welcomed it.  
After a moment, she collapsed. When would he kill her?  
“Do you know,” He stopped using the Cruciatus curse and yanked her up by her hair. She squealed in pain. “What you have done!” He threw her into what she presumed was a closet door. Her head smacked into the wood harshly, and she was winded. He stepped on her head, hard, and her nose cracked against the wood floor.  
Panic filled her. Why wasn’t he killing her?  
He lifted her by the hair again and dragged her, nose bleeding slightly. She clutched at his wrist, digging her nails in, but he didn’t care. He opened an empty wooden wardrobe and stuffed her inside, sealing it behind her. It was the size of a closet, though, and she sagged to the bottom of it in a little ball. He locked the doors and Hermione started crying, unsure what she’d done, unsure what she’d do, and unsure what would be done to her.

 

Hermione awoke tied to a giant, gorgeous bed. The sheets were a brilliant, shining emerald, the metal posts silver, holding golden silks that were tied up to reveal whomever lay in the bed; at this particular time, it was Hermione.  
The terror in her chest made her breathing unsteady and the pain in her soul made her body over aware and numb at the same time. The anger that flooded her soul made her body shake and quiver.  
“We’ve never had a mudblood, have we, Lucius?” An airy, ladylike voice asked, mature, professional, rich, and stunning. It gave Hermione goosebumps on her tanned skin, which only angered the girl more. She didn’t want to think about what they would do her. She didn’t want to think… She just wanted Ron. Why hadn’t she stopped him from running out with Neville? Why hadn’t he survived with the Cruciatus, like his cohort? Why did he- why was he dead? Hermione began to weep, trying to yank her arms down.  
“Oh, sweetie,” Cooed Narcissa. She floated to the bed, sitting beside the girl, and wiped the muggleborn’s tears away.  
“Don’t touch me!” Hermione shrieked. She wanted to be gone, be anywhere but under Narcissa’s ministrations. She’d rather be dead with Ron, or at least alive with Harry. Why had she attacked Draco? She’d felt like an animal… Why hadn’t she just been calm? What was wrong with her?  
“It’s okay, sweetie,” the married woman assured, but Hermione twisted and fought her ropes.  
Lucius sent a tightening charm, and the ropes binding Hermione tightened painfully. She cried out.  
“Calm down, baby,” Narcissa soothed, and reluctantly- if only to save what little circulation she had in her hands- Hermione obeyed.  
“Good girl,” Lucius said coldly, sitting down on Hermione’s right.  
She was tied spread eagle, a limp on each post. She wore the remains of what she had for the Battle; a tattered, bloody sweater, ripped, bloody jeans, and sneakers nearly falling off her feet. Her brown hair was a tangled ponytail on her shoulder. Lucius began to stroke her thigh, and she squirmed. Narcissa cooed comfortingly in Hermione’s ear.  
Odd sensations bloomed in Hermione’s chest, and a deep attraction surged through her; what the fuck was wrong with her!  
“It’s the veela in her,” Lucius replied. “She’s a full half.” Hermione squirmed in response.  
“Lucius,” Narcissa addressed her husband despairingly. “Remove those filthy rags from the poor girl.”  
“As you command, my love,” With a wordless flick of his wand, Lucius undressed Hermione until she was left bare before the couple.  
She squirmed uncomfortably. The only person who’d ever seen her naked- save her parents, of course, and doctors and the like- had been Ron… And she wept again, remembering the worshipping gleam in his blue eyes, his gentle warmth, his loving consideration.  
“Don’t cry, little precious,” whispered Narcissa. “We’ll take very good care of you.”  
“You play first, Cissa,” Lucius instructed. “It’ll calm her down.”  
The woman straightened and slipped the black robe over her head. She had a gorgeous, womanly body, with flawless, porcelain skin and voluptuous curves. She wore light blue, lace panties that rode low on her full hips and a matching bra over her probably c-cup breasts, just more than a handful.  
She let down her hair. The top of it was dyed chestnut, but the rest was its natural, light blonde, silvery and shining. The brown was tied up, but the blonde trailed halfway down her bicep.She undid her hair and stepped out of her flats.  
She was atop Hermione before the teen could protest, her mouth taking possession of the hardly legal teen’s. Hermione whimpered piteously and Narcissa took the opportunity to explore the caverns of the girl’s tongue with her mouth.  
Lucius stroked himself through his slacks, unabashed and unrepentant. Hermione squeezed her brown eyes shut and squirmed.  
She didn’t want this. Torture would have been better… Something she didn’t enjoy. SHe hated Narcissa for the adoration swelling her her bosom, for the heat growing in her womb, for the wet silk blossoming on her nearly unexplored folds. She thanked Merlin and Morgana that her virginity would forever be in the soul of Ronald Weasley.  
Narcissa’s hands found themselves all over Hermione’s unwelcoming body. Her mauve nipples were teased into erection by Narcissa’s taloned fingers, the slight hint of pain increasing the pleasure. Her nails teased over Hermione’s skin, tickling her, and she whined into the woman’s mouth, trying not to notice Lucius take himself from his slacks to give attention to it more properly. She gasped when Narcissa’s forefinger found Hermione’s dancing clitoris. Her thighs tried to twitch together, but the bindings on her ankles kept them stationary. It almost hurt, having to keep her legs open; when Ron had touched her like that, her legs had made a fortress and were sealed together, his hand lost inside of her enclosure. Hermione wiggled and Lucius tsked at her in response.  
The woman’s body slinked down Hermione like a cat until she was situated between the girl’s open thighs, eyes looking up at her teasingly. She kissed Hermione’s sex, and the girl let out a loud, guttural noise, one that made Lucius hum in approval. She made the mistake of looking over.  
His member wasn’t quite as long as Ron’s- surprisingly- but the thickness of him made her eyes widen. He was uncut, his hand sliding easily up and down his length of about 20 cm, a pink tip poking out from the colorless foreskin occasionally.  
“S’lovely, isn’t it?” Purred Narcissa, pausing in her cunnilingus. “He’ll feel so good in you… Especially with how tight you are S’good thing you’ve been deflowered, though, or you’d be in for a painful session.”  
She continued her oral stimulation while feelings of desire still rushed through Hermione. She tore her gaze from Lucius’ manhood and looked away, eye squeezed shut, until she was so infinitely aroused and unbelievably sensitive that she thought that she would, in fact, die.  
“Let her drink from you, Cissa,” Lucius said, somewhere behind his wife. When had he-  
As soon as the woman moved away from Hermione’s soaked and dripping snatch, Lucius had two fingers knuckle deep inside of her.  
Hermione let out a half-whimper, half-whine, pulling away from him. It’d been so long since she’d had anything there, and Ron had hardly had any width to him…  
Lucius twirled his fingers around inside of Hermione and the girl was almost screaming. Cissa placed her nether lips to Hermione’s mouth, and reluctantly- although semi-willingly, as her veela powers somehow affected Hermione- the girl experimentally flicked her tongue across Cissa’s small, enveloped clit.  
Lucius added a third finger sometime after Hermione began to feel that she’d die if she stopped tasting his wife’s honeypot. She whimpered and the Slytherin half-veela stroked her hair encouragingly, so Hermione buried her tongue in Narcissa’s core, licking and drinking the juice that flowed freely into Hermione’s mouth.  
Eventually, after Hermione had come several times on Lucius’ hand, Narcissa finished, too. Thick, sparkling cream flushed out of the matriarch’s core, and she made loud, needy moans, holding Hermione’s mouth to her pussy.  
She dismounted Hermione’s face and curled into the girl’s left side, cuddling her, face on her breast.  
“Does she like it, lover?” Cissa asked Lucius.  
The man was staring in concentration at Hermione’s slick folds, an egotistical smirk on his too-handsome face. He sneered at Hermione. “She’s come more times than the number of years she’s been alive,”  
Cissa smiled against Hermione’s breast. “Give it to her, baby. I wanna hear her scream.”  
Hermione shook her head. She didn’t want Lucius Malfoy.  
But he leaned his weight onto Hermione’s throat. “No one asked for your input, mudblood. Shut up, take it, and be thankful you’re being shown an ounce of kindness; it’s all thanks to my beautiful wife.”  
Lucius was in her without a single difficulty, though her body protested.  
“Gah-haahh!” Hermione gasped. Tears stung her eyes, though more from emotional pain than physical.  
“Oh, hush,” Lucius hissed off-handedly, before using magic to cut the rope on her right ankle and hauling it up onto his shoulder. He buried himself to the hilt into Hermione, and the girl whimpered.  
It wasn’t painful past the insertion, but Hermione wept and thought of Ron. She couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t… Couldn’t what? Couldn’t anything. Couldn’t think, obviously.  
Lucius used her for the better part of an hour, slamming and thrusting, clutching her cramping thigh. Hermione couldn’t find the determination to kick him away.  
He came on her stomach, the sensation odd and unwelcome. Then, Narcissa cut Hermione out of her bindings and Lucius shoved her to the far left of the bed, curled in a ball, crying and facing away. A content Narcissa curled up in the middle of the bed and Lucius shut the lights off and closed the curtains before joining the females. It couldn’t be past noon.  
Hermione cried herself to sleep, thinking of Ron, and when she awoke, there was a thick, warm blanket on her, and she was clean and dry, her hair clean and in a loose braid on her collarbone.  
Hermione sat up. It had to be night, with how dark it was, and since the couple were in bed again; in pyjamas this time, their shoulders overlapping. Both were sound asleep.  
She felt the anger again, and disgust at herself. The animal who had attacked Draco was screaming in Hermione’s bones… Narcissa looked so happy, and Lucius content, as if they weren’t sick, murderous rapists. As if they weren’t the epitome of everything wrong with the world, with Hermione’s life.  
Narcissa’s wand was on the left nightstand, a pink dragon sheath unlike Lucius’ emerald snake. Carefully, feeling very, very lucky, and very in control of her animal, she slipped the wand from it. Nothing happened; Hermione thanked Merlin that it hadn’t been jinxed. She pointed it directly at Narcissa and uttered a spell that, not even a week ago, she wouldn’t have ever even considered using.  
All thanks to his beautiful wife. If she lost to Lucius, but Narcissa was gone… He would kill Hermione. She would be with Ron again. Whether she beat them both or just her, she would die tonight.  
“Avada kedavra,” her voice was a whisper, but she meant it. Green flew from the wand and hit Narcissa.  
Despite her best efforts, Lucius awoke immediately. He looked between Hermione and Narcissa, and Hermione turned the wand on him.  
“Avada-” she started, but Lucius had his wand out.  
“Crucio!” The girl fell at the roared spell from Lucius. Familiar, searing agony roared through Hermione’s body, and she almost welcomed it.  
After a moment, she collapsed. When would he kill her?  
“Do you know,” He stopped using the Cruciatus curse and yanked her up by her hair. She squealed in pain. “What you have done!” He threw her into what she presumed was a closet door. Her head smacked into the wood harshly, and she was winded. He stepped on her head, hard, and her nose cracked against the wood floor.  
Panic filled her. Why wasn’t he killing her?  
He lifted her by the hair again and dragged her, nose bleeding slightly. She clutched at his wrist, digging her nails in, but he didn’t care. He opened an empty wooden wardrobe and stuffed her inside, sealing it behind her. It was the size of a closet, though, and she sagged to the bottom of it in a little ball. He locked the doors and Hermione started crying, unsure what she’d done, unsure what she’d do, and unsure what would be done to her.


	2. I'm Sorry

I've tried time and time again to come back to this work, but I can't. It's too much for me. If anyone would like it, message me and I'll give it to you. I haven't the stomach for such a dark fic anymore.


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